


Hanging On

by gongji



Category: Shin Sangokumusou | Dynasty Warriors, Sān guó yǎn yì | Romance of the Three Kingdoms - All Media Types
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Implied Relationships, M/M, Sexual Content, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 06:08:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gongji/pseuds/gongji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jiang Wei doesn’t know who Zhong Hui is thinking of, but in the few times Zhong Hui has ever looked at him it is not Jiang Wei he sees reflected back at him – only the memory of someone who must have left him long ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hanging On

**Author's Note:**

> A gift for a friend

It happens every time.

Jiang Wei drags his nails down Zhong Hui’s sides and watches his face twist, watches his eyes as he moves and moans and whispers Jiang Wei’s name while thinking of someone else. Jiang Wei doesn’t know who Zhong Hui is thinking of, but in the few times Zhong Hui has ever looked at him it is not Jiang Wei he sees reflected back at him – only the memory of someone who must have left him long ago.

\---

Zhong Hui lies on his stomach besides Jiang Wei and plays with his hair – the sheet just barely covers the both of them, but Zhong Hui doesn’t seem to mind. He has most of it, anyway. Jiang Wei stares up at the ceiling and tries his hardest not to look at the man next to him, but the minute his eyes drift to the side to peek, Zhong Hui looks up accusingly. “What?” He says through a frown, as if his entire existence has just been wronged by a simple glance. Jiang Wei says nothing for a moment and turns back, hoping Zhong Hui will leave it alone but the young general, of course, does the exact opposite. “Do you have something to say?”

“No.” Jiang Wei replies, except he does, and he can’t stand that he’s spent several nights with Zhong Hui and still the man can’t look him in the eyes when they share a bed.

“I can tell you’re lying.” The young general continues with a small smirk on his face. He knows he’s right and if he has the opportunity to feel good about himself, he’ll take it with arms wide open. “What, did you not like it?”

“Like what?” Jiang Wei asks against his better judgment and watches Zhong Hui twirl a lock of hair around his finger. Zhong Hui looks down at his hair like a proud father.

“The sex, obviously.” He continues without hesitation, and Jiang Wei immediately looks away. Zhong Hui only rolls his eyes and tries to hold back a laugh. “What else did you think I was talking about?”

Jiang Wei tries to hide his face in the sheet but Zhong Hui has most of it wrapped around his body. “That’s not what I was…” he pauses to takes a breath. “…thinking about.”

“So then you were thinking about your Prime Minister.” Zhong Hui says almost immediately, as if he had that waiting as a follow-up to whatever Jiang Wei was going to say. Jiang Wei refuses to look at the general in his bed and says nothing. Lord Zhuge Liang wasn’t who he was thinking about, but he wasn’t about to waste his breath denying Zhong Hui’s absurd accusations. Zhong Hui takes that as a yes. “Of course, as usual you’d be thinking about him.” Jiang Wei still says nothing.

“Oh please, anything I can do is so much better than that Zhuge Liang of yours.” Zhong Hui says, “Though I suppose it can be a sort of… _exhilarating_ sensation to be fucked by your dear prime minister.” He sits up on all fours and mimics the motions, “Oh! Prime Minister!” he pretends to moan, “Oh yes, Prime Minister, treat me like the little dog I am!”

“That’s enough!” Jiang Wei sits up and shoves Zhong Hui over. “How dare you say such things?”

Zhong Hui scoffs and looks at his nails. “Calm down, I’ve paid my respects to that Prime Minister of yours.”

“And you think paying your respects once excuses you from saying such vulgar, barbaric things?”

“Vulgar? Barbaric? You think that’s barbaric?” He turns and moves his hair to the side, showing off the numerous bites and marks on his neck and shoulder. “Just look what you did to me; I should be calling you the barbaric one!”

Jiang Wei scowls and turns away from Zhong Hui, but the younger man taps him on the arm. “Hey! Look at me when I’m talking to you!” He continues to speak but Jiang Wei isn’t listening. “Boyue, Boyue pay attention to me!”

Boyue, Boyue! He’s heard his name spoken from the general’s mouth too many times. “Boyue, Boyue!” He mimics Zhong Hui’s voice. “What!”

Zhong Hui scowls at him. “Oh alright, I’m leaving then.” He makes to leave, unwrapping himself from the sheets, but Jiang Wei grabs his arm and pulls him back to bed.

Jiang Wei doesn’t like sleeping alone, and he hates that he knows Zhong Hui dislikes it even more.

\---

He should have known their plan wouldn’t have worked out. He should have known from the very moment he surrendered to Zhong Hui that his idea was foolish. But it gave the general so much _hope_ – a hope that perhaps Jiang Wei would not understand, but it didn’t matter to him then. Nothing mattered to him then except the dying wishes of his fallen allies. And perhaps it was this burden shoved onto his shoulders that made him surrender in the first place.

What a foolish, foolish idea.

They attack Zhong Hui first. Jiang Wei lifts his spear and shouts his friend’s name just before being knocked to the ground, and he hears the screams of the few soldiers who were the first to fall under Zhong Hui’s blade, the clashing of metal, and then a scream from Zhong Hui himself. Jiang Wei is too afraid to look.

“Boyue!” He hears, but still doesn’t lift his head. “Boyue! Boyue what are you doing! Boyue _help me_! B-”

When he does lift his head, Jiang Wei can finally see himself in Zhong Hui’s eyes – a glaring, hopeless, (pitiful?) cry for help. But Jiang Wei does nothing. He says nothing. Instead, he watches Zhong Hui fall and recounts the nights they spent losing sleep in each other. He remembers the steady flow of Zhong Hui’s voice as Jiang Wei rests his head on his lap and listens to the younger man recite poetry written for someone Jiang Wei would never meet. He remembers the night they ran inside to hide from the pouring rain outside, and Zhong Hui had slipped off his clothes and slid his way into Jiang Wei’s bed (and perhaps, accidentally, into his heart as well). He remember the softness and the creases of the sheets as he gazed at the man underneath him and listened to the steady tapping of the rain hitting the roof above them, and at that moment all he saw when the younger man reached up to wrap his arms around his neck, to whisper his name softly in his ear, all Jiang Wei could see was the eternal reflection of someone else in Zhong Hui’s eyes.

It was never him. It never could have been him, and it never would have been.

Jiang Wei sits up just in time to watch the life fade from the general’s eyes, and he can’t see anything reflected in them anymore. From the corner of his eyes he sees the soldiers turn away from the bloodied mess of Zhong Hui’s body and look at him, but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t move, he doesn’t even think about saving himself.

“I’m sorry, Prime Minister,” He says, listening to the solid footsteps and clinking metal moving towards him, “I wish I could have made you proud.”

And then they were on him, and Jiang Wei doesn’t fight it.


End file.
